


My Big Fat English Wedding

by Bellelaide



Series: Love Island AU [2]
Category: Football RPF, Men’s Football RPF
Genre: England National Team, Love Island AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Following their time on Love Island 2018, Dele and Eric return to Mallorca - with all the lads - to tie the knot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this struck me in a half formed thought at 3am the other night and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Here’s the starter chapter, I hope the return to the Love Island AU is as exciting for you as it is for me! 
> 
> Mistakes as always belong to me - I hate proofreading and I type like a dog smacking keys at random so pls forgive me. 
> 
> Without further ado...

Please Join Us To Celebrate Our Wedding 

E R I C + D E L E 

♡♡♡

Friday the 27th of July Two Thousand and Nineteen 

12 Noon  
St Regis Mardavall Mallorca Resort  
Mallorca, Spain 

Dinner and Drinks To Be Followed By The Reception On Board A Yacht In The Mediterranean Sea 

Travel To Mallorca Should Be Arranged For Wednesday The 25th of July. More Details Will Be Shared Following RSVP 

RSVP to:  
Louis and Jeremy Dier - 07845231056  
Sally and Alan Hickford - 07793221380

********************************************

Eric wanted the wedding to be classy and understated; whilst Dele wanted it to be over the top and glamorous - they compromised, so over the top and glamorous it was. 

The invitations had hit the doormats of friends and families six months before the event date. They’d been engaged for five months, and whilst it was considered a too fast whirlwind by many, Dele and Eric had never been more certain of anything in their lives. Everyone who’d been on Love Island with them was in agreement - to be around them was to know that they were meant to be together. 

Harry picked up the envelope from the mail box of the Notting Hill apartment that he shared with Gareth and cheered in delight, handing the weighty white paper to his boyfriend and grinning widely. “Mallorca! Back to the island!” They’d gone out for Mediterranean food that evening and reminisced on their time on the island, on how great Eric and Dele were together and talked excitedly about how great the trip would be. 

They were brushing their teeth together when Gareth suddenly paused and looked at Harry in the mirror. “Think it’ll be awkward between John and Kyle?” 

— 

John got the invitation and his first thought was happiness for Eric and Dele, but his second, stronger thought, was pure and complete dread. 

Following their stint on Love Island 2018 John and Kyle had grown closer and their relationship flourished away from the glare of the nation. Within a month of leaving Spain they had said they loved each other. John left his dead end job and using their new found fame had worked together with Kyle’s local council to open a football centre for underprivileged children. They had met one another’s families and friends and John was preparing to ask Kyle if he’d like to buy a place in Sheffield, planning to pop the question on Christmas Eve with a keyring and an estate agent brochure. 

Two weeks before Christmas, Kyle went on a night out with some friends in London. John stayed at home as he had meetings the next day with his own city council about opening a football centre in Barnsley. He woke up that morning and his phone was blowing up on the night stand with calls and texts. In a panic he called Kyle, not even stopping to read the messages. Kyle was crying when he picked up, and John’s world had flipped over. He’d asked frantically if Kyle was okay and if he was hurt. Kyle asked if John had seen the front page of The Sun. John answered that he had not; Kyle had gone silent and whispered that he’d been photographed kissing someone in the club and it’d been printed in the papers. John hung up the phone and cut all contact. 

Kyle tried to see him a dozen times but John made it clear he didn’t want to hear his excuses. He was broken hearted, humiliated and disappointed. He was given the grant to open his own centre at home and he threw himself into it with all his energy. He did not speak to Kyle again, deleted his number and blocked him across social media. 

So when John got the invitation to Dele and Eric’s wedding he thought - I’m not going. There was no way he was going on a trip to Mallorca with the guy who’d publicly broken his heart. He was trying to think of what his excuse would be when his mum had told him to get a grip. 

“Those boys are your friends,” she’d scolded him. “They’ve been there for you since the day you met them. You’re going to the bloody wedding, John. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” 

John decided that by the time July rolled around he’d probably feel differently - it was all so new now, but in six months time, he’d be over it. He’d probably be ready to see Kyle again - and he wanted to see Dele and Eric tie the knot; he wanted to see the other islanders that he never managed to cross paths with post Love Island. 

John RSVP’d with both Dele and Eric’s parents, just to be sure, and put it out of his mind - July was ages away. 

— 

July came in a whirlwind of sunshine, social media excitement and the finalisation of the little details. Last summer had been Harry and Meghan but this summer was very much that of Dele and Eric, and the tabloids were alight with speculation over the wedding and its guests. 

John was in his Taxi on the way to Manchester airport when he saw photos on Instagram of Jordan Pickford at Newcastle airport, papped on his way to the wedding of the year. John smiled at the photos - he hadn’t seen Jordan for ages and he felt warm looking at his big goofy grin. 

But almost instantly, and not for the first time since July had crept up on him, John felt a flash of anxiety in his stomach. Seeing Jordan on his way to Mallorca reminded John that everyone from Love Island would be together in one place for the first time in a year - time had passed since he and Kyle had split but the thought of seeing him again was unspeakably tough. Dele and Eric had promised to keep John and Kyle apart as much as possible, and even though he told them it wouldn’t be necessary, John was secretly glad. 

According to the thorough schedule they’d all been added to on google docs, Kyle was due to fly out of Manchester on a later flight in order to ensure their paths wouldn’t cross. John had clicked on the Kyle Walker hashtag on instagram the night before his flight but had to click back off it again, his chest constricting too much to go any further down that rabbit hole. 

John would be flying out with Ross and Harry, as well as Jesse and Marcus. Ross no longer bothered John in the slightest - he often wondered what on Earth he’d been thinking for the two weeks they were together. Ross and Harry had remained together through some miracle - John assumed that they believed they were more relevant together than apart. They were clearly not smart enough to realise that connecting to someone from Geordie Shore or The Only Way Is Essex would boost their celebrity far more, but hey - they seemed happy enough. 

John hadn’t seen Jesse and Marcus since the show, but neither had anybody. As soon as it was over they had gone travelling together around Asia and Australia, only getting home to the UK in June of 2019. John had texted them back and forth about meeting up for a drink but between his busy schedule at the centre and their catching up with family and friends, it hadn’t happened for them so far. 

Harry Kane, Gareth, Ruben and Eric and Dele’s family and friends would fly from Heathrow, whilst Hendo and Kieran Trippier joined Kyle on the later Manchester flight. Dele and Eric had already been in Spain for a few days with their immediate family and the wedding planners. John had loved seeing them papped at the airport, completely loved up and with their dogs in tow. 

John clicked his phone off and sat back against the leather seats of the car, exhaling a breath. This wasn’t going to be a picnic but he’d come out the other side unscathed, he hoped. Four days with two of his exes, nowhere to go and love firmly in the air - piece of cake. 

— 

Meanwhile, in Mallorca, Dele and Eric were in their own veritable heaven. 

They had been in Spain for three days before the guests were due to arrive. The resort was beautiful, like something from a movie - it was all flowers and palm trees, terracotta buildings and grand staircases. The gardens were vibrant and green, the fragrance from the flowers breathtakingly sweet. Everything was magnified here, the grandeur of the place overwhelming at times. It was a haven of blue pools and shady terraces, white sun loungers and lush greenery. The interior of the hotel was a sensational display of marble and light, of long white curtains and huge chandeliers. It was a garden of Eden with the sea right there on its doorstep, visible from the balconies of their rooms. The sun set on the horizon every night, bathing the rooms in a soft orange glow, and Eric and Dele watched it go down together on their first night, holding each other and feeling that they had won the lottery. 

When they arrived at the hotel they were greeted like royalty, staff awaiting them and handing them frozen margaritas. They let their families deal with all the admin stuff, guiding the hotel wedding planners to their parents and slinking off with the dogs to explore the place. 

Since then they’d been wrapped in a bubble of love, barely remembering that anything or anyone else existed. Eric’s mum had told them off over lunch on Tuesday, snapping that this wasn’t their honeymoon and they had to be present with the people around them. Eric and Dele had frozen in the middle of feeding each other strawberries and looked around at the faces of their parents and agreed that they would try harder. 

Their days consisted of early morning runs down the beach with the dogs, then a joint shower in their enormous bathroom, a breakfast of coffee and fresh fruit on the terrace overlooking the ocean followed by wedding prep - suit fittings, dress rehearsals for the ceremony. They had made an exclusive deal with OK Magazine to let them shoot the wedding and there were interviews and photos to be done, details to be shared. Still through all of this there was each other; their gradually tanning skin, salty after a dip in the sea; the soft swell of Dele’s stomach when it was full of fresh seafood; the sight of Eric on the balcony in just a towel after his afternoon shower. 

“Calling this paradise would be putting it lightly,” Eric whispered into Dele’s shoulder the night before the other guests were to arrive. “Every day with you is heaven.” 

— 

John got through security at the airport and was milling around duty free when a booming Liverpudlian voice shouted “Stones!” 

John braced himself and turned around to see Harry and Ross ambling towards him, both looking ridiculous in matching Gucci tracksuits. John smiled at them and greeted them with some awkward one armed hugs. 

“Alright, guys?” He said jovially, taking them in. “You excited?” 

“Fucking buzzing mate,” Harry said, taking out his iphone. “Take a picture with us for me insta story will you?” 

John smiled awkwardly in the middle of them for Harry’s story, wondering briefly if Kyle would see it. 

“Shall we go to the Spoons near our gate, catch up a bit?” Ross asked, grinning at John with his new white veneers. “Coupla pints before the flight?” 

John agreed and they all went off together, Ross and Harry earning some looks with their chosen ensemble. They got to the bar and slid into a booth, John insisting on buying the first round so that he could text Jesse and Marcus and ask where the fuck they were. They replied that they were just coming through security and would meet them at the bar as soon as Jesse had bought himself some new EarPods, and John thanked god that he wouldn’t be left alone with Kim and Kanye much longer. 

By the time Rashford and Lingard rolled in John had been given the full Juice Plus sales pitch from Harry and was signed up to receive some skin care promo stuff from Ross. Jesse and Marcus got the next round and it was the two couples and John, sandwiched in between all this happiness. It was good to be around Jesse and Marcus again and the conversation flowed easier with them there, laughing and joking around like old times. They both looked different; older - and they were so much closer now than they had been before. They were very in tune with each other and extremely in sync, finishing each other’s sentences. Travelling did that to a couple but so did being so in love, and John was happy for them, he really was. 

He looked at Ross and Harry and then at Jesse and Marcus and his heart hurt - he wondered why it hadn’t worked out for him. He was so sure that it would, that Kyle was the one. He found himself sinking into a hole of sadness and he had to shake himself out of it, reminding himself that he was here to celebrate love, not to cry about it.

—

The flight was boring but quick and before they knew it they had touched down at Palma Airport. They wheeled their suitcases out into the heat and looked for their driver, all excited to get to the hotel and see Dele and Eric, dip in the pool, get another beer. 

It didn’t take long to locate their driver and they were off, en route to the resort. John couldn’t shake the quiet anxiety he felt at the back of his mind but reminded himself that there was a good few hours before Kyle would arrive, and to enjoy them. The car drove them through the Spanish countryside and eventually up the gravel driveway of the St Regis Mardavall, all of them gobsmacked by the sight of it. 

“Fucking hell, this is better than the hostels in Thailand,” Marcus said under his breath. 

They got out of the car and immediately staff took over their suitcases, handing them cocktails from a tray and informing them that the hosts were waiting for them in the lobby. The boys walked into the hotel, their necks craning around as they took it all in, and there were Dele and Eric, rushing up to them with their arms outstretched. 

Being reunited was amazing. John didn’t want to let them go, wanted to feed off their happiness forever. Dele and Eric filled them in on the hotel - they were all inclusive, access all areas, VIPs and should behave accordingly. Gareth, Harry Kane and Ruben were already upstairs getting unpacked and Pickford was due in any minute. 

“The other lads from the show won’t be getting in til about ten,” Eric said, making a point of looking right at John. “They’ll miss dinner, which is at 6 on the sea terrace. We’re gonna eat together and go over the wedding and the photos and stuff, have a bit of a drink and a catch up. That sound alright?” 

Everyone agreed and then collected their room keys, going their own ways to shower and unwind and decompress. John was on the same floor as Marcus and Jesse and they took the elevator together, commenting on the hotel. 

“This place is unreal,” John marvelled at them. “Del and Eric look happy. Can’t believe the tan on Eric already.” 

“Dele’s idea this, wasn’t it?” Marcus said, looking at Jesse. “Eric told us on the phone he wanted to get tents and do it all on the beach.” 

John laughed. “Thank fuck for Dele. I’d never manage without a shower and flushing toilet, christ.” 

“Don’t ever back pack around Vietnam, then,” Jesse said, and he and Marcus shared a knowing look, sniggering slightly. 

John looked away from them, feeling that he was intruding on something intimate, when all they were doing was look at each other. He was grateful when the elevator doors opened and they exited into a door lined corridor, marble floor beneath them. John looked at the number on his card - room 56 - and headed off in the direction of it, telling Jesse and Marcus he’d meet them back at the lifts at 5:50. 

He opened the door to his room and was not surprised that he was surprised by how amazing it was. There was a huge lounge area with a massive balcony looking out at the sea, a doorway to the right leading to a bedroom fit for a king, a four poster king sized bed in the middle of it. A doorway to the left of the lounge went to a majestic bathroom with a big clawfoot tub in the middle of the floor and a huge wall to wall shower along the back wall, equipped with in-shower chairs. His suitcase had been delivered to his room already and he collapsed down onto one of the sofas, barely able to take it all in. 

John took out his phone and texted his parents that he’d arrived safely and then sat alone with his thoughts for a while. He was sad to be in this room alone and sad to be at the wedding alone. He felt himself ready to start crying when he grabbed a hold of himself, jumping up and slapping himself lightly on the cheek. John opened his suitcase and took out his speaker, pressing shuffle on Spotify. Liquid Spirit by Claptone came on and he grabbed fresh clothes, going off to enjoy that unbelievable bathtub. 

— 

Their dinner was lovely and sumptuous and John could not have been more content than when he was sat with Gareth on one side, Jesse on the other, a cold beer in front of him and the sun setting on the ocean behind them all. 

They were all laughing and joking and enjoying themselves, enjoying being back together. Jordan Pickford was in the middle of a story about a PA he’d done in Middlesbrough that had them all screaming with laughter, and John looked around the table and thought that it didn’t matter if he was alone, because in this moment he was unbelievably happy. 

They had finished their meals and were sufficiently buzzed from the alcohol when Gareth leaned in close and put a hand on John’s forearm. 

“I was wondering, John - how you feeling? About everything with Kyle? This the first time you’ve seen each other, yeah?” 

John swallowed. “Yeah. Honestly, I’m shitting it. But as long as he stays out of my way I’ll stay out of his. This is about Eric and Del, end of the day,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Do you not think he’ll want to talk?” Gareth asked, looking genuinely concerned. 

John shrugged. “We can talk, whatever. I’ll be civil, but I’m not gonna be his best mate. He fucking cheated on me, man. He betrayed me.” 

Gareth squeezed John’s arm then patted it a few times. “Alright. You know me and H are always here, okay? Always here if you need us. We’re on your side, mate.” 

“Appreciate that Gareth, honestly,” John said, smiling. “Thank you.” 

They sat there for hours. The drinks wouldn’t stop coming, and there was so much to catch up on. Eventually though, long after it was dark, John was growing tired and the couples were becoming quiet. John looked around at Gareth and Harry, whispering in each other’s ears, at Jesse and Marcus who were kissing at the end of the balcony. He looked at Maguire and Ross taking selfies together and then at Dele and Eric, who were wrapped in their own blissful little world. Pickford was playing on the floor with the dogs and John knew it was time for him to get off to bed. 

He said his goodbyes and then tried to navigate the maze of the hotel back to his room, exhausted. He got all the way to his room, showered again, and was in bed by the time he realised he’d left his mobile phone on the table downstairs. It was now 11pm and he wasn’t sure if the lads would still be there or if someone had taken it. He jumped out of bed and threw on a tshirt with his pyjama bottoms, walking barefoot to the elevators and pressing the button for the reception. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the lift, just wanting to sleep. The lift stopped suddenly at floor 3 and he stood up straight, wishing he’d put on shoes, when the doors opened and his breath left his body. 

Kyle was standing there gawping at him, looking all soft and sleepy in joggers and a white tshirt but also somehow muscular and firm, all brown eyes and pillowy lips and fluffy brown hair. Before he could think too much John leaned forward and pushed the button for the lift doors to close, his eyes not leaving Kyle’s. 

“John,” Kyle said softly, but the doors were already closing, and neither of them moved to stop them. The elevator started moving down again and John stood transfixed in it, even after it had opened again on the reception. 

This was not going to be as easy as he’d hoped. This was going to be hell on Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I introduced some ships here that should’ve been in the original, but I did not know existed. I have since been educated and righted my wrongs. 
> 
> Thanks as always for being so wonderful and kind and encouraging. It’s a pleasure to write when the reaction is how it is. You’re all fabulous! 
> 
> The next chapter will be a little more exciting, and I’m hoping that’ll be up by Sunday!

John’s phone was still on the table where he’d left it when he wandered dazedly out onto the balcony. 

Only Jesse, Marcus and Pickford were still there, finishing their pints and picking at a cheese board left over from dinner. They looked up at John when he approached and were all instantly concerned by the look on his face. 

“Sup, John?” Jordan said, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. “You okay?” 

John shook his head and folded down into a seat, staring at the table with his mouth ajar. 

“What’s happened?” Marcus asked. 

John looked at them. “Just saw Kyle. In the lift. First time,” he gasped out. “Holy fuck.” 

The boys looked at each other in silence. 

“Shit,” Jesse began, tentative. “I totally forgot - didn’t even cross my mind, I’m sorry - are you alright?” 

John nodded once, twice, scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s weird seeing him, like, brings back all these feelings and that. I dunno, I dunno what to say. Fuck,” he breathed, a groan escaping him. 

“Hey, it’s okay, mate,” Pickford said, coming to sit beside John. He rubbed a hand up and down his back gently. “It’s not gonna be easy. I’ve seen Kieran a few times since we finished and it was brutal like. Obviously your situation is different, with... you know, the history and that. But I know how you feel. As some very wise men once said, Johnny boy, don’t you worry, don’t you worry child - heaven has a plan for you.” 

John looked at Jordan like he was speaking in tongues. “Did you just Quote Swedish House Mafia at me?” 

“Who’s Swedish House Mafia?” Marcus interjected, and the rest of the boys cried in despair. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so young!” Jordan said to Marcus. “You need a musical education! Lingard, what are you teaching this boy?!” 

The conversation descended into a ribbing of age and musical tastes and John took his leave quietly, smiling fondly at the guys. He crept back through the hotel, peering round corners to check that Kyle wasn’t lurking in wait. Fortunately he was nowhere to be seen and John made it back to his room safely, collapsing onto the huge bed and staring at the ceiling. The sun was coming up outside when he finally felt himself drifting off, his alarm set to go off far too soon for his liking. 

— 

Their first full day in Mallorca was tightly scheduled, and they’d all been emailed about it well in advance. 

They could eat breakfast at their leisure at any of the hotel’s restaurants but should be available at 10:30am for couple’s yoga on the beach (negotiable, but failure to attend would really disappoint the grooms who want to ensure the mood of the wedding party remains as zen as possible.) 

After yoga the guests were invited to spend the afternoon entertaining themselves by making use of the hotel’s many facilities or simply enjoying the weather. 

In the evening, at six o’clock promptly there would be a pre-wedding day dinner on the beach. Guests should dress smartly and keep alcohol consumption to a minimum - Eric had vehemently stressed that there should be no one looking hungover in any photos on the big day. 

Following dinner their night was their own, to prepare for the wedding however they saw fit. 

John’s alarm went off that morning and he was exhausted, eyes dry behind their lids. Still, there were worse places to feel like shit, he told himself. He hobbled out of bed and made his way to the balcony, stepping out into the early morning air. 

It was eight AM and then Sun was crawling into the sky, glimmering off of the sea water like diamonds scattered on a length of blue silk. John looked down and saw the hotel staff preparing the sun beds and pool for use, moving around expertly like little ants dressed in pristine white to get the day started. He loved Mallorca at this time of the day, before the heat got too oppressive and the air sticky. 

He thought suddenly about Kyle, and how they’d always shared this time of day together. He knew that Kyle would be awake too and probably on his own balcony somewhere, and his heart twisted sadly. He remembered how it had been when they were together properly, after they’d got out of Love Island. He remembered waking up in October in his house in Barnsley, Kyle having stayed over, and it being dark and cold outside the bedsheets but warm with Kyle beside him. They’d wake up and move against each other silently, coming to rely less and less on coffee and tea to wake them up when they were making each other’s blood pump so much before their feet had even hit the floor. 

To take his mind off it John sent a text to Jesse, asking where he and Marcus were having breakfast. He had showered, applied suncream and was dressed by the time Jesse replied twenty minutes later. 

They agreed to meet by the elevator again in fifteen minutes. John used the time to stare at the wall and steel himself for seeing Kyle again, to hopefully handle it better than he had last night. 

— 

“How you feeling about it all this morning lad?” Marcus said when John joined them in the hall. They seemed well rested and relaxed, and John envied the way they looked together - like two matching socks balled up together and perfect in their symmetry. 

“Hardly slept, honestly. We’ll see, won’t we? See what happens.” 

“Yeah. You doing this yoga nonsense?” 

John shrugged as the lift doors opened for them. Ruben was there already and he grinned at them all, impossibly beautiful as always. “Morning lads!” 

“Morning mate, how‘d you sleep?” John said happily, getting in beside him. 

“Good, yeah. You boys ready for some yoga?” Ruben said as he waggled his eyebrows. 

“Marcus just asked me the same thing. Dunno man, not in a couple am I - “ 

“Fuck it! Neither am I,” Ruben said, patting John on the shoulder. “We can do it together.” 

“Yeah?” John asked, laughing gently. “Alright. You bendy?” 

“Like an elastic band, Stonesy,” Ruben grinned. “Where you lads eating?” 

They agreed to eat breakfast out on the terrace, wanting to take advantage of their beautiful surroundings. They came outside and saw that Dele and Eric were around a large table with their families, already eating. The dogs were eating behind them, sharing one bowl even though there were two. There were some other friends that John didn’t know and at a table to their left was Jordan Pickford and Jordan Henderson, chatting amiably as they waited for their food. 

The boys joined them, all greeting Hendo kindly. Things were not awkward between Jordan and Ruben, who’d been coupled up on the show, because they had ended on good terms and had seen each other plenty of times on the outside. Ruben grabbed Hendo into a big bear hug and they sat beside each other and delved into a conversation about a Made In Chelsea star they’d both slept with. 

John looked over the breakfast menu that was on the table and then peered around cautiously, not having much in the way of an appetite. Dele and Eric were glowing, he noted happily. There was a youngish lad sat at a table a few feet away staring at Ruben. John didn’t blame him. Pickford was scrolling through his phone and Jesse and Marcus were quietly looking over the menu, occasionally pointing something out to one another. 

A waiter came over and took their orders, John opting for a cup of tea and a pain au chocolate. The waiter was just turning away when someone approached the table. Everyone looked up and John saw that it was the young guy who had been staring at Ruben. He was smiling, and he licked his lips before speaking. 

“Sorry to bother you lads, but I just wanted to say - loved you on Love Island. I just wanted - well, I thought I’d be bold - Ruben, I’d love to get to know you better. Maybe after this, if you want to go for a walk or owt, come and find me, yeah?” 

The table was stunned to silence. John was smirking at his knees, Pickford looking for Hendo’s reaction. Hendo was smiling happily, which was nice, and Jesse and Marcus were gawping at the guy. Ruben was grinning at the boy, his dimples popping. “Yeah, I’ll find you,” he said smoothly. 

“Great. Enjoy your breakfast, fellas; Ruben. I’m Trent, by the way.” 

He turned and left and the guys gawped at each other, impressed by the Trent’s confidence and charm. Ruben let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “I’ve had worse starts to my day,” he said. 

“You alright with that, Hendo?” Jesse piped up clearly. John shot a look at Jesse, eyes widening. 

“Jess!” He hissed, kicking him under the table. 

“What? Just asking,” Jesse shrugged, and Hendo laughed. 

“Yeah, course I am. I’ve been seeing someone,” he said breezily. “Real deal. Been keeping it on the down low. He’s here, you’ll all meet him shortly.” 

John gasped. “That’s been kept fucking quiet! He’s here? Who is he?” 

Ruben was scrolling through his phone, and it was clear that this was not news to him. “All you need to know is he’s not as hot as I am,” he said without looking up. 

“Impossible, Rubes,” Hendo said, rolling his eyes at the other guys. “His name’s Adam. He’s really sound. You’ll all like him.” 

“Where is he?” Marcus asked just as the waiters brought over their drinks. John thanked the girl and took a scolding sip of his tea, cursing under his breath. 

“He’s eh - “ Hendo looked quickly at John. “He’s with Kyle. They were down the gym and they’re coming for breakfast soon, I think. You want me to text and tell em to go somewhere else?” 

John felt the colour drain from his face, but he shook his head. “Nah, don’t do that. I’ll have to see him some time, won’t I?” 

Pickford reached out for John’s shoulder and squeezed. John wanted to take another sip of tea but knew his hand would shake too much, so he tried to focus on breathing in and out and stared out at the ocean. He barely registered when the waiters put the food down on the table, and he was about to get up and make his excuses when Kyle walked onto the balcony. 

He was accompanied by a bearded guy who had floppy hair like some sort of nineties Hugh Grant. John only looked at them for a split second before he was staring down at his plate, red in the face.   
Hendo stood up when they approached and put an arm around Adam, looking down at him with an expression he’d never had with Ruben. “Guys, I want you to meet Adam - this is Jesse, Marcus, Jordan Pickford and John - you’ve met Ruben, of course.” 

The guys stood up and shook Adam’s hand awkwardly, and John pointedly did not look at the figure to his right, hovering over a chair beside Marcus and Ruben. 

“Y’alright, lads?” John heard Kyle say sheepishly to the other guys. 

Kyle wasn’t in anyone’s good books, not after what he’d done to John, and the boys only greeted him half heartedly. John bit his lip and then turned to look at Kyle properly. The force of his face hit John like a tonne of bricks. 

He was moved by two sensations; the first a wave of nausea and sadness as he remembered evenings curled up on the sofa feeling a numb kind of misery that he was sure would never leave him, a thick hole in his chest where hope and happiness had once been and now were gone. He remembered staring in the mirror at himself and wondering why he wasn’t enough, evenings drinking until he couldn’t see straight and crying in his friends’s arms until he couldn’t breathe. He remembered with sudden clarity how he didn’t even check the front door was locked because he didn’t care if someone came in and got him, not when he felt so low. He was also hit by a wave of longing and love, of Kyle’s brown eyes and how kind and caring he was and how the skin on his wrist smelled when he got home after a long day, of how every time John went down on him Kyle reacted like he’d just been gifted a lambo, of how he always always always put John first until one day he just didn’t. 

Kyle looked every bit as shitty as John felt, and he was looking at John like he wanted to cry. John summoned up something resembling a smile. “Hi, Kyle,” he said. His whole body ached to be close, just one more time. John ignored that desire. 

“John,” Kyle breathed. The world seemed to have stopped, and John didn’t know what to do, or say, and he thought the world was going to end before Ruben stood up and broke the tension. 

“Right then lads, I’ve been summoned by that young lad over there and far be it for me to deny true love when it comes knocking. Breakfast can wait. See you all for yoga, yeah?” 

“Bye, Ruben,” they chorused. 

John looked down at his plate and then at Hendo and Adam. “So, guys - how did you meet?” 

Adam and Jordan gave each other the most sickeningly sweet look. 

“Well,” Adam started. 

“It’s a long story,” Hendo said next. 

“Well someone fucking tell it quick because I’m not facing Eric’s wrath if we miss yoga,” Pickford interrupted, and John managed a little laugh. 

“We met at a Liverpool game.” Adam said as he picked a chunk of melon up from Hendo’s bowl. “Queue for the bogs. Jordan came up to me and asked for my number.” 

Everyone blinked around the table for a second. “Nice,” said Marcus eventually through a mouthful of toast. “Liverpool’s shite though.” 

Just like that things were calm again, jokey - Marcus and Jesse bickered with Adam and Hendo over football, and Pickford argued with them all. John picked at his croissant a bit but couldn’t stand to put it anywhere near his mouth for fear he’d throw up all over the place. He didn’t look at Kyle, though he felt his eyes boring into his skull, and they didn’t speak. 

Across the balcony, Dele and Eric had finished their breakfasts and were leaning against each other happily. Eric had his arm around Dele’s shoulder and Dele was absently rubbing his thumb back and forth across Eric’s ring finger. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to be married to you tomorrow,” Eric huffed into Dele’s ear. “Mr Dier.” 

“Can’t believe you’re going to be married to me either, Mr Dier the second. You’re so lucky,” Dele joked, squeaking in an undignified manner when Eric tickled his ribs. 

“What time have you scheduled this bloody yoga for again, Eric?” Called Eric’s uncle suddenly from the across the table. 

Eric disentangled himself from Dele and stopped laughing. “10:30. Don’t be late, either.” 

“Yeah, yeah. See you on the beach at ten folks,” he replied, getting up from the table. At his lead lots of the others did so too, having finished breakfast. Eric and Dele decided it was time to move as well. They had a little over two hours before yoga and they wanted to spend that time in their room with the door locked and the blinds down. 

Eric lead Dele and the dogs away, nodding over at the other Love Island lads on their way out. 

“Was that Kyle and John sat at the same table?” Dele asked retrospectively as they made their way through the hotel. 

Eric turned around and peered through the door, but couldn’t see anything. “Not sure. They’ll be fine, Del, I wish you’d stop worrying. Twenty quid they’ve fucked by the time we’re married.” 

Dele swatted Eric on the arm, scandalised. “Eric Dier! You can’t bet on the private lives of your friends. But make it thirty.” 

“Forty. Go hard or go home.” 

“Speaking of hard... get it up, because I want to blow you in the lift,” Dele whispered. 

“What about the dogs?” Eric murmured back, toes tingling. 

“They don’t know what they’re looking at. C’mon, I don’t want to wait.” 

“Someone might sell the CCTV to the Daily Mail.” 

“Let them. Kim isn’t a millionaire because she patented a new X Ray machine, is she? C’mon Dier, live a little.” 

— 

Back on the balcony, the boys were finishing up their breakfasts and making plans for their free time before yoga. Pickford was going to go to the hotel gym and John couldn’t really be bothered working out but he figured he’d go along and watch. 

Jesse and Marcus stood up first, chairs scraping against the marble, and the rest of them followed suite. John nodded at Adam and Hendo and was about to turn to leave when Kyle said “John? Can I - can we talk?” 

John looked at Kyle and then at Jordan, unsure what to do. 

“Please, John - we have to talk some time,” he begged. 

Before he could overthink it John nodded. “I’ll catch you in a bit Jord, yeah?” He said to Pickford. 

“Okay, John. I’ll be waiting for you, right?” 

“Yeah, mate. I’ll not be long.” 

The guys left hesitantly, giving John a look. John’s mouth was dry and he looked at Kyle expectantly. 

“Where do you want to go?” He asked, heart thumping. 

Kyle looked over the balcony. “We could sit by the pool down there?” 

John forced a smile. “Okay.” He started walking, and Kyle followed him. 

“But, is that gonna be safe? Don’t want you to drown me,” Kyle joked, and John turned around and shot him a look that said he didn’t find this funny at all. “Sorry,” Kyle said quietly. “Nervous.” 

John didn’t say anything. They walked together down the stairs and out into the lustrous grounds of the hotel, searching for a suitable spot to have the discussion they’d both been dreading. John pointed out a couple of white deck chairs under an umbrella and they ambled towards them, perching on the ends and sitting opposite each other. Kyle let out a big deep breath, and John stared at his own knees. 

“Can I ask how you’ve been?” Kyle started. 

“Fine. Been fine. Opened a centre down the road from my mum and dad’s house, sure you’ve heard. It’s been good, hundreds of sign ups.” 

“That’s good. Really good.” There was a pause. “Have you been seeing anyone?” 

John’s head snapped up. “You don’t get to ask that,” he spat coldly. 

“Sorry. I’m - John,” Kyle whispered, his face crumpling. “I’m so sorry - “ 

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? Let’s just - be civil. Whatever. For Del and Eric. I’m willing to forget about it whilst we’re here.” 

Kyle was blinking rapidly, his bottom lip pushed out. John wanted to kiss him. 

“I want to talk about it, I want to explain. I want you to listen to me, you’ve never listened to me.” 

“Kyle,” John warned. “I’m not doing it. I can’t, m’not ready, right? Let’s not think about it. For the wedding.” 

“It’s all I think about, John. It’s all I fucking think about. But fine, yeah. Whatever. Okay. Pretend it never happened, okay.” 

“You fucking hurt me. You’ve absolutely gutted me and it pains me to even look at you. But I’m willing to do it for my friends. Alright?” John smiled tightly at Kyle. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and it was all there, stretched out in the space between them, everything they wanted to say and the ways they’d hurt each other and how it had all been going so well and then it crashed and burned in the worst, worst way. 

“If you’d just let me - “ 

“Not now. Don’t want to hear it.” 

Kyle let out a breath and looked away, shaking his head. 

“So, friends?” John said. 

Kyle raised his brows. “Never been friends, us. But yeah, fine. ‘Friends’.” 

“Cool.” John scratched his knee, looked around awkwardly. “I told Pickford I’d meet him in the gym, so, I’m gonna get off,” he said, standing up. Kyle remained seated and looked up at him, and John had to fight himself not to sink a hand into Kyle’s hair. “See you at yoga?” 

Kyle nodded, and smiled sadly. “See you later, John.” 

John walked away, past the pool and the gardens. He took the steps two at a time and got inside the hotel, walking fast down the corridor. At the first opportunity he ducked into a room, some kind of TV room, and with his back to the wall he burst into tears. 

— 

The morning yoga session did not go as Eric and Dele had planned. 

First of all, yoga on sand was hard, and the elderly relatives had given it a go until Eric’s grandma had almost broken her leg and they’d all given up. 

The instructor was a Spanish woman who clearly did not have any time for a group who mainly consisted of young men intent on pissing about. Eric and Dele were trying very hard to ignore the nonsense going on behind them, but the whole thing was a clusterfuck. 

Marcus and Jesse would have been alright at it had Jesse not been laughing every time either Harry or Gareth bent over in front of them. Eventually Gareth had whirled around and barked “what’s so fucking funny?!” and Eric had shouted that if anyone ruined the zen any further they were banned from the wedding. 

Hendo and Adam were trying to focus but Jordan just couldn’t hold any of the poses, almost crushing Adam to death during the Flying Warrior pose. Harry Maguire and Ross were trying their best but neither of them were particularly dainty and Ross wasn’t much of a yoga man, resulting in him losing interest half way through. 

Perhaps most disastrously of all, Ruben and Trent had come down to the beach together and they were all giddy and flushed and John fucking knew he’d been ditched. Ruben looked at him and shrugged and John was about to leave, because Pickford was with Dele’s cousin and Trippier hadn’t bothered turning up, when Kyle had come up and sheepishly offered his services. 

John raised his eyes to the sky and asked internally why the universe liked laughing at him, and half heartedly agreed. 

At first it’d been incredibly awkward and charged with tension. After some stretches they’d been told to do some centering, involving holding onto each other’s forearms and pulling. John and Kyle sat across from each other with their legs folded and neither of them were sure if it was okay to touch. John ghosted his fingers up Kyle’s arms and goosebumps broke out along his skin and they couldn’t look at each other, and John thought he was going to have to call it a day when Kyle reached out and just grabbed John’s arms and John pulled himself back to the moment. 

The problem was that they were so compatible, making it both very hard to stay on bad terms and rendering them very good at yoga. They were intuitive with each other and they knew one other very well - John knew how far Kyle could bend before his back would crack. Kyle knew that John was bothered with his knees and so shouldn’t be the one to support Kyle’s weight in a lift. It didn’t take long before they were laughing at the rest of the boys together, almost like old times. John found that he didn’t need to pretend to like Kyle because he did - they were so similar, their personalities so well matched, that getting along came easily to them. 

Getting to be so close to each other and to enjoy each other’s company was intoxicating. There was a small voice in John’s mind trying to remind him that Kyle had betrayed him and broken his heart but it was eclipsed by another voice that was rejoicing to be back near him, to have the thing he’d been missing so desperately for the last seven months. 

There had been moments, since Kyle broke his heart, that John had gone on silly Tinder hookups and taken people home from the pub just to feel someone’s hands on him, just to remind himself he was alive and existed, that he wasn’t a ghost. Here, on the beach, with Kyle’s hands on his skin and his weight against John’s, he knew he was alive. He felt life in every pore of his being, and it was exhilarating. 

Once John looked over and accidentally made eye contact with Gareth, who was staring at him disapprovingly. John looked away uneasily. He was only getting along with Kyle because he had to, and he didn’t care for the judgement - Gareth would probably be just as cynical if John and Kyle were arguing and ruining the mood. 

The session ended when Dele and Eric’s mutual friend, Jan, bent over and let out a fart that could be heard over the sound of the ocean. Everyone descended into peals of laughter and the host gave up, giving Dele and Eric an apologetic namaste and marching up the beach towards the hotel with a shake of her head. 

John was laughing heartily with his legs twisted in Kyle’s arms and he couldn’t help an extra titter when Dele glared at them all and hissed “you’re all worse than children.” 

The guys unfolded themselves and looked around at each other, wondering what happened next. John and Kyle were still side by side but now that the yoga was over things were slightly tense again, as they wrestled with the desire to touch each other but with no excuse to do so. 

“Right then, boys - anyone up for a swim?” Gareth said, clapping his hands together. “Little birdie tells me the poolside bar does a cracking mojito.” 

They all agreed - except Trent and Ruben, who mumbled that they were going to compare their tie collections - and made off towards the hotel pool as a unit. 

John was walking quietly up the sand when Gareth found him and nudged his shoulder. “Be careful, alright?” was all he said before he was off towards the front of the group, leading the way.

John swallowed the worry in his throat and focussed instead on the sand under his feet, the heat on his skin and air of possibility that was suddenly in the atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle-laid.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Playing by the pool felt just like being back in the Love Island villa. 

The sun beat down relentlessly but they hardly noticed it thanks to the pool and the endless supply of cold drinks they were being provided with. They’d rolled up to the area and fought over the best chairs for a while, eventually being distracted by a cannon ball competition started by Maguire. 

John got right into the water, splashing and goofing around. They all ordered beer when the waitress came over and John sat on the ledge of the pool with his feet dangling in the water. Jesse sat beside him and Marcus floated between Jesse’s legs whilst Harry Kane paddled in front of them. They were having an in depth conversation about Amsterdam versus Prague, of all things, and John was laughing away happily, feeling warm and satisfied. He couldn’t help the way his eyes kept flickering over to Kyle where he was splashing around with both Jordans and Adam, water dripping down his back like he was in some kind of M&S advert. 

Dele and Eric were wrapped up together on one of the loungers, watching their friends contentedly. Eric was tracing patterns on Dele’s forearm absentmindedly, almost without thought, like touching Dele was instinctual. 

“You reckon Ruben and Trent’ll shag?” Dele mumbled, peering across the pool at the men in question. “They look close and they did the yoga together.” 

Eric followed Dele’s gaze. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” 

“They’d be nice together,” Dele mused. “But if Ruben breaks Trent’s heart I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“I’m sure it’ll not be anything more than sex, Del,” Eric said. “Be surprised if anything serious happened.” 

Dele turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to Eric’s ribs, breathing in the smell of suncream on his skin. “Who’s idea was yoga, by the way?” He asked, grinning up at him. “Terrible thought. Was bound never to work.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “No idea. Mine, probably. Silly of me.” 

“It’s okay. I still love you.” 

“You see Stones and Walker together during it, though? Seemed like they’re getting on.” 

“Yeah I did clock that. John’s not the grudge holding type, is he?” 

“Different when someone’s cheated on you publicly though, innit?” 

“Yeah, well. Maybe he’s trying to keep the peace.” 

“You know what?” Eric said, changing the subject. “I can’t wait to marry you.” 

“I bet you can’t,” Dele answered, and the pair of them fell back into their bubble seamlessly. 

John finished his pint quickly and felt the buzz a little too keenly. He hadn’t eaten much at breakfast and so the alcohol was affecting him more than normal - not drunk but fizzy, the edges of his consciousness softer than normal. He took to staring outright at Kyle, watching him talk and move through the water like he was something fascinating and rare, like a panda in a zoo. 

Kyle looked over and smiled gently after a while and John smiled back, wishing again that things had worked out differently; that Kyle hadn’t fucked things up. Before he could dwell too much on it he pushed into the water, wading over determinedly to where Kyle was. He approached the group, catching the tail end of a conversation about whether Eric and Dele would have kids of their own. John floated casually beside them, noticing that Hendo was trailing his fingers up and down Adam’s back in the water. John blinked over at Kyle, the sun in his eyes, and chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“What do you think, John?” Jordan Pickford said, peering at him from behind his sunglasses. “Two or three kids?” 

“None. The dogs and Dele are enough of a job on Eric’s plate.” 

They all laughed, and John felt warmth inside when Kyle did too. Jordan started talking about something else and John looked at Kyle, at his face and his familiar tattoos and his hair, and suddenly, impulsively, splashed water in his face. 

Kyle whipped his head away instinctively and then looked around at John, brows furrowed. “What was that for?!” 

John shrugged. “Felt like it.” 

Kyle paused for half a second and then splashed him back, and like that they were off - roughhousing all over the pool, clambering on each other and causing waves in the water. People moved out of their vicinity and only when Kyle got the better of John and dunked him repeatedly did John concede, spluttering and laughing and blinking chlorine from his eyes. 

“I give up!” He choked, trying to move to a bit of pool shallow enough for him to stand up comfortably. “I’m sorry!” 

“Don’t fuck with the master, Stones,” Kyle said triumphantly, flexing his muscles. “Don’t mess with the GOAT.” 

John snorted. “GOAT? Clown, more like.” 

“Do you want to go for another dive?” Kyle asked menacingly. 

“Shut up,” John smirked, catching his breath. 

“Want to go for lunch, in all seriousness?” Kyle asked suddenly, voice softer. “I’m getting peckish.” 

John fell quiet, knowing they were toeing a very delicate line. “Yeah,” he nodded eventually. “I’m hungry too.” 

“C’mon then,” Kyle said, paddling to the edge of the pool. 

John watched after him with baited breath and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but smile, as embarrassing as it was, and he was about to follow when he spotted Gareth, staring at him from under an umbrella. He looked away quickly and swam to the edge of the pool, pushing himself up and out of the water. 

Eric and Dele were dozing off on their sun bed and Marcus and Jesse were already heading off towards the hotel. Ruben and Trent had disappeared and Jordan, Hendo and Adam were still in the pool, chattering away. It felt natural to slink off with Kyle - John felt that this was his place in the group, his own team within the team. He towelled himself off and got dressed and joined Kyle for the picturesque walk back up to the hotel. 

— 

They went to the dining room to eat, where a huge Mediterranean buffet had been laid out with a large selection of choices. John took his time wandering around with his plate in his hand, grabbing three different types of pasta, a spoonful of sweetcorn and a pile of cherry tomatoes. He brought his food to a table and sat down to wait for Kyle, who was approaching with two plates in his hand. 

“Here,” Kyle said, sliding a bowl over to John. “I saw they had an olive bar. Got you a selection.” 

John looked at the mixture of green and purple olives and felt his heart flare in his chest, tingles sprouting up his forearms. He’d missed the olives and they were his favourite, which Kyle remembered. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at Kyle in gratitude, reaching for his fork and choosing not to speak for fear of what he’d say. 

“So,” Kyle began. “Tell me about your centre?” 

And John did, talking at length about the football centre he’d opened for boys and girls in Barnsley. He spoke animatedly about the kids and their characters, about the staff the council had employed to train them - there was Betty who did the admin and was forever complaining that John was too skinny, bringing him different food every day; there was old Peter who took care of the grounds; Matthew and Jennifer and Chris who, alongside John, showed the kids how to play football. John gesticulated wildly and animatedly and Kyle just ate and nodded and smiled at John with the softest, crinkliest eyes in the world, and just like before their breakup John was warm and fuzzy and happy under his gaze. 

“You know, I have to agree with Betty, though,” Kyle interrupted after a while. John raised an eyebrow and he continued. “You’re looking very skinny, John. You been eating okay?” 

John ducked his head and frowned. It was true he’d lost weight since they split and had been struggling to finish a full meal. Still, he didn’t feel like confessing that to Kyle. “Just been more active. Been eating fine.” 

Kyle seemed unconvinced but didn’t push it. “How’s your mum?” He asked carefully, steepling his fingers. “Does she hate me?” 

John popped an olive into his mouth and considered how to answer that diplomatically. “Yeah,” he said a moment later, removing the pit from his mouth. “She wants a pound of your flesh.” 

Kyle’s eyes flashed with hurt and John felt guilty. He had to change the subject, so he said “You been seeing anyone?” In a rush, trying to act like he didn’t care about the answer but sure his pulse was visible in his neck from across the room. 

Kyle shook his head and frowned, suddenly very serious. “No, of course not. I still - I’m still in love with you,” he said firmly. 

John felt his ears get hot, and he stared down at his plate, moving his fork around in the pasta. “Really? Then why’d you - “ 

“Well that’s what I’ve been trying to explain, but you won’t let me - “ 

“Lads!” Came a voice, breaking through their bubble and shattering the moment. John looked up at Harry Maguire and Ross, who were pulling up chairs at their table with as much grace as a heard of elephants. “Wondered where you’d gotten off to!” 

John forced a smile onto his face and greeted Harry and Ross, aware that Kyle was still staring at him pleadingly. Harry started off on a rant about lunch buffets and Ross looked between John and Kyle and said “Did we interrupt something?” 

John and Kyle both shook their heads, and John stood up from the table, ready to take his leave. “No, we’re done, actually. Don’t eat the white pasta, it tastes like fish,” he added, picking up his plate and carrying it to the collection station. 

Kyle followed him and they walked in silence out of the restaurant, things a little bit awkward. 

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap, have a shower before tonight,” John said to Kyle, walking in the direction of the elevators. 

“Yeah, me too,” Kyle said, cracking his knuckles. “Didn’t sleep too well.” 

They passed through the reception and stood in front of the lifts, waiting. Eventually the doors opened and they got in. John leaned back against the wall and held the rail tight, willing it to hold him up. Kyle pressed their floors and stood beside John, and their fingers brushed on the rail. Neither of them moved, suspended in the moment. John looked down at Kyle and Kyle looked up at John and the tension stretched between them like an elastic band, only able to go so far before it sprang. 

“Kyle,” John breathed, and he leaned down ever so slightly - only to be interrupted by the elevator door dinging open and Ruben walking in. 

He took one look at Kyle and John and froze, the doors closing on him and opening again. “Should I - “ 

“No, come in,” John said, stepping back and composing himself. “You going to your room?” Ruben nodded and John pressed the floor for him. “You have lunch yet?” 

Ruben smiled coyly. “That guy, you know from breakfast? He’s waiting in his room for me. Just going to grab supplies,” he said, winking. 

“Shit, mate. That was quick,” Kyle laughed. “I’m impressed.” 

Ruben shrugged. “Something about weddings, isn’t there? No time to waste.” 

The lift opened on Kyle’s floor, and he nodded at both the boys. “Fellas,” he said, leaving swiftly with his hands in his pockets. 

Ruben looked at John. “What happens in Mallorca, eh, Stonesy?” 

“Bye, Rubes,” John said, exiting at his own floor without turning around. 

The shower he took when he got back to his room was ice cold. 

— 

Dele and Eric were late for their beach front dinner because they could not keep their hands off each other. 

Eric couldn’t concentrate with Dele walking around in shorts, those legs that stretched for miles taunting him from every room of their suite. It was five forty and Eric was on his knees literally begging Dele to let him fuck his thighs when Dele decided enough was enough and put on his dress trousers, reminding Eric that they had guests and he hadn’t even showered yet. 

Dele was wearing black slacks and a white shirt and Eric got dressed in chinos and a white polo. They managed to stop kissing long enough to get out the door by six fifteen. They wandered lazily like they had nowhere to be, hand in hand through the hotel. The sun was already sinking in the sky as they made their way down to the beach, the air fragrant with the rising heat from the ground. 

They rounded the corner and were met by three long banquet tables occupied by their friends and families, torches decorating the walk way beautifully. There were staff buzzing around pouring drinks and taking orders, making the guests comfortable. The Love Island lads cheered when they spotted Dele and Eric, their parents less congratulatory. They took their seats at the family table and were only annoyed to have to divide their attentions away from each other, legs pressed together under the table to keep up the illusion that they were the only people in the world. 

Dele sipped the champagne that had been put before him and looked around at their guests, leaning into the warmth of Eric’s body. He sighed and smiled, his cheeks hurting with it. “We’ll be married in twenty four hours,” he said quietly, almost to himself. But Eric heard it, as he always did, and squeezed him tight, letting the love flowing between them do the talking. 

At the next table across, John was sat beside Harry Kane and Eric’s cousin Jamie, both of them having a conversation over his head about Crystal Palace. John was fiddling with his serviette and zoning in and out of their conversation, but his mind was on the man at the other end of the table. Kyle was wearing a blue shirt and it was setting off his skin tone to devastating effect. John’s mouth had run dry when he’d first seen him, Ruben’s words bouncing around his skull like a rogue tennis ball. What happens in Mallorca stays in Mallorca, he’d said. John knew being around Kyle would be hard but he hadn’t expected to want him this much, to be filled with longing instead of anger and bitterness. 

Kyle looked over at John and his eyes were heavy and full with the same energy as John’s, the same need. John looked away, squeezing his eyes closed for a second. He was pulled from his thoughts by Jamie beside him, tapping him on the forearm. “What about you, handsome? What do you do for a living?” 

John looked at Jamie’s hand on his arm and then at his face, suddenly and stupidly worried it would upset Kyle. He reminded himself he was single and smiled at him. “I help disadvantaged children get their lives on track through football.” 

“Wow,” Jamie said, eyebrows raised. “You’re the whole package, aren’t you?” 

John blushed. “Oh, I don’t know about that. What do you do?” 

“I’m an electrician,” the guy said, launching into a spiel about being a tradesman. He was good looking, that was for sure. John wondered if shagging Jamie would take his mind off Kyle and deal with the desire he was experiencing. 

“That’s cool,” John said, angling his body closer. “I’ve always been jealous of the banter tradesmen get to have.” 

“D’you reckon you’re funny, then?” Jamie said, grinning. “Think you could make me laugh?” 

John swallowed. “Think there’s lots of things I could make you do.” 

Jamie licked his lips and looked at John’s mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Room you in?” John asked, heart thumping. 

“6th floor. 612.” 

“Maybe I’ll be passing by, after dinner.” 

“Maybe my door will be open,” Jamie replied. “Maybe I’ll be on the couch with a couple glasses of wine.” 

John was about to reply when their starters were placed in front of them, dispelling the tension for the time being. John sat up straight and blinked, exhaling a breath. His traitorous eyes flicked over to Kyle, just for a beat, and his heart stuttered when they caught each other’s gaze for for a nanosecond, Kyle’s eyes hitting the floor almost instantly. His mouth was set in a firm line, and John felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

They ate until the sky turned rich black, scattered with stars like the gods had spilled a bag of sugar. Between the main and dessert there was a fire show and a speech by Eric’s dad that had tears in everyone’s eyes. He praised Dele and Eric and thanked their guests, talking about how he was gaining a son and that he felt like his heart was being released from a vice in the knowledge that his little boy was going to be cared for and looked after even after he was gone. 

By the time the desserts came out John noticed that Kyle was deep in conversation with a girl - some family member or friend of Dele and Eric. They were close, annoyingly close, and she was beautiful. Her skin was glowy and her hair was shiny, her face impossibly well constructed. Kyle had his arm on the back of her chair, saying something to make her laugh. John was uncomfortable suddenly, aware that he was too far away from Kyle and too close to Jamie. He was pissed off, irritated. The thought of Kyle somewhere in the hotel having sex with some girl made him angry - Kyle had cheated on him. HE was the one who should be having sex, and Kyle should be crying himself to fucking sleep about it. 

“Tasty this, isn’t it?” Jamie said, licking his spoon suggestively. 

John scowled at him, dropping his own spoon. “It’s just mousse,” he snapped, and Jamie’s eyes widened. 

“Oh - yeah, I mean - “ 

“Excuse me,” John said, standing up and putting his serviette on the table. “I’ve got to go.” 

He straightened his trousers and walked around the table, coming to a stop before Kyle and the woman. John folded his arms and looked pointedly at Kyle. 

“Er - hi, John,” Kyle said, smiling nervously. “This is - “ 

“Can you help me with something?” John interrupted, not even looking at the girl. “In me room. Spider in it.” 

Kyle’s mouth fell open. He looked at the girl, at John, over at Dele and Eric, and then he stood up without a word, following John like he was the pied fucking piper. John walked purposefully past the tables, past where he was sure Gareth was having an aneurism, and up the pathway to the hotel. They were silent the whole way. John jabbed at the lift button like it had personally offended him, getting inside when the doors opened and pressing his floor with the same attitude. Kyle stood there meekly, scared to speak. Eventually he said “you don’t care about spiders,” and John answered him with a quick “shut up.” 

John opened the door to his room and didn’t wait to see if Kyle would follow him, knowing already that he would. He stomped into the sitting room and sat down on the couch, tipping his head back over the edge of it and letting out a long and exasperated growl. Kyle hovered for a second and then sat beside him, tentatively on the edge of the sofa like he was a guest in someone’s home that he barely knew. 

“Would you fuck her?” John said fiercely, eyes still closed. “Were you trying to?” 

“She - we were just talking,” Kyle said carefully. “You were all over that guy yourself, John. What do you want from me?” 

John sat up and looked at Kyle with blazing eyes. “What I wanted from you, Kyle, was a fucking loyal boyfriend.” 

Kyle’s eyes changed, his eyebrows tugging inwards. “John - “ 

John leaned forward and crushed their mouths together, his body still tense and coiled, brows furrowed in anger. He felt the softness of Kyle’s lips and the roughness of his cheeks and felt instantly like a drug addict taking a hit, like he’d been stuck suffocating with his head in a plastic bag until now, the material finally ripped from his mouth, his lungs filling. 

He pulled away and let out a sob, and then he came back in, kissing him properly, tasting the vanilla mousse he’d just been eating. Kyle grabbed at him, at his waist, and led John’s legs over his hips, pulling him down flush against Kyle’s body. John was engulfed in the weirdest nostalgia, in a wave of emotion that he’d only just managed wrestled into a box but now was open again, swirling in the air around them like an electric storm. 

“John,” Kyle breathed, kissing down John’s neck. “Please - I want you - “ 

John tipped his head back, hips pressing down, savouring each press of Kyle’s lips to his throat. He had a tickly neck at the best of times but when he was turned on like this it only made him sensitive, responsive, and he could barely chase one train of thought, mind going berserk. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, noticing that they were both hard against each other. “Fuck. Fuck,” he said louder, putting a hand on Kyle’s chest. “Stop, stop,” He gasped, realising where he was and what he was doing. “We can’t do this.” 

Kyle looked up at him, hands coming right off John’s body as soon as he heard the word stop. “Why not?” He asked, voice wavering. “Why can’t we?” 

John stood up, putting space between them. “Just - not a good idea,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. “Not thinking straight.” 

“I love you,” Kyle said quietly. “I love you so much.” 

John turned his back to Kyle, letting his head fall into his hands. “Please go,” he said, willing himself not to cry. “Please just go.” 

“John - “ 

“Kyle, I’m begging you,” John said, crying now. “I need you to go.” 

John could hear the rustle of fabric as Kyle got to his feet, and the moment he paused. John wanted, stupidly, for Kyle to ignore him - to come over and take him into his arms, to let him cry and to explain to him the whole thing in a way that would make John understand. He wanted Kyle to undress him and make love to him again, to remind him what his body was for. 

Instead, he didn’t do any of that. He walked to the door, opened it, and closed it gently behind himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry for the wait on this - that’s the last time I say a day i’ll upload with confidence! 
> 
> Tell me how your week is going belle-laid.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry I took so long to do this. Pls forgive me! 
> 
> When I get married, I want it go down the aisle to Berlin Song by Ludovico Einaudi - so that’s what these two are going down to, too. It makes a nice companion piece to this chapter!

Dele and Eric woke up on the day of their wedding feeling oddly serene. 

Eric kissed Dele into consciousness, a big grin on his face as he mouthed along Dele’s shoulder blades, his ribs, his elbows. “I’m going to marry you today,” he said gently, punctuating each word with a touch of his lips. “You’re going to be my husband, Del.” 

Dele rolled onto his back and smiled brighter than a football floodlight. “Morning, babe,” he croaked, his hands riding up Eric’s arms, to his neck. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the physical embodiment of sunshine?” 

Eric grinned down at Dele, biceps straining beautifully to hold up his weight. “Those are some big words for you.” 

“Oh, it’s like that? Fine. Watch me leave you on your own at the altar. Well and truly pied.” 

Eric collapsed down so that he was lying alongside Dele, head propped up by an arm. He laughed softly and nudged Dele’s legs with his foot. “Shut up. I’ll set the dogs on you.” 

Dele looked down at where the dogs were in a heap on the floor, fast asleep together and snoring quietly. “I’m petrified.” 

Eric kissed him on the mouth, no longer smiling. Dele tried to slip his hands into Eric’s shorts but he stopped him with his spare hand, pulling away from the kiss reluctantly. “Hey, hey. No sex before marriage,” he scolded, cheeks hot. 

“That ship has sailed.” 

“You know what I mean. We have to wait. Tonight, once you’re my husband. It’s gonna be so good, fuck.” 

“Why are you like this? Just have sex with me.” 

“No.” Eric kissed Dele on the forehead and hopped out of bed, waking the dogs as he did. “C’mon, doggos. Walkies.” He pulled on shorts and a pair of trainers and waved to Dele, who was left lying in the big white bed all on his own. “Get some room service sent up, will you? Fresh fruit’d be nice. Love you.” 

He left, the door clicking shut behind him. Dele collapsed into the downy pillows and hummed in excitement. 

—— 

Somewhere else in the hotel, John Stones was staring up at the ceiling having not slept a wink. His mind had been whirring on overdrive all night since Kyle’s visit to his room. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle telling him he still loved him; about how it’d felt to kiss him and be close to him again. It had been torturous to have to put a stop to things and yet he knew he had to - if they’d slept together last night things would’ve been too messy to even begin to unravel. 

John thought about why he was so unwilling to listen to Kyle’s excuses. He had no good reason not to, and yet the thought of hearing him out terrified John. What was he going to say, really? ‘I stopped being attracted to you, I had to kiss someone else.’ ‘I was blind drunk, I didn’t know what I was doing.’ ‘I struggle with monogamy, and if you want to be with me you’ll have to accept that.’ Every possible excuse John could think of fell short of satisfaction. He’d rather not know, he thought. He’d rather spend forever wondering. 

John checked the time on his watch and swung his legs out of bed, sighing. It was about an acceptable time for breakfast, and he needed coffee badly. He was going to look like shit in all the wedding pictures and Dele would kill him for it, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d ask one of the girls to stick some concealer on him and be done with it. John dug around in his suitcase for some clothes and made his way down to the patio for breakfast, sunglasses on to hide his bloodshot eyes. 

He was the first one there and he poured himself a hot cup of coffee to begin with, taking it and looking out over the ocean and hotel grounds as he drank. It was peaceful and scenic as always - a true heaven on Earth. John didn’t know places like this existed outside of the Caribbean or the Maldives or some other exotic destination he’d only ever seen on TV. He spotted Eric and the dogs walking up the beach path and he waved but Eric was in his own world, completely consumed by his own thoughts. John couldn’t believe he was really getting married later that day. He couldn’t help the jealousy he felt at that thought. 

Staff were mulling around behind him setting tables and arranging chairs, and so John didn’t notice it when someone approached him from behind, a hand settling on his shoulder. He jumped and looked around, eyes settling on Gareth Southgate. 

“Morning, John,” Gareth said, standing next to him at the balcony railings. “How you doing?” 

John shrugged. “Not bad, Gareth. How are you?” 

“I’m fine. Listen, John, I won’t beat around the bush with this.” 

John swallowed, steeled himself. He’d known this was coming. 

“What the hell are you doing, with Kyle? I saw you yesterday. I don’t know what you think’s going to happen - “ 

“Nothing, I don’t think nothing - “ 

“Well that’s not true. Kyle’s - he’s - you must know by now, John. He’s sensitive, and you two doing stuff here, it’s only going to mess with him - “ 

“You’re telling me off? You’re telling me I’m the one who’s out of order? He cheated on me!” John yelped, suddenly angry. “What should I care about how it’ll make him feel? He clearly has no regard for my feelings.” 

Gareth sighed like he was talking to someone really, really stupid. “You’re not listening to me. This is bad, alright? This is bad news. Just because he hurt you, does that make it okay for you to hurt him? Do two wrongs make a right, John?” 

John rolled his eyes and looked back out at the horizon. “Jesus, Gareth. You sound like my dad.” 

“I’m trying to help you John. I care about you.” They fell silent for a beat. John took a sip of his coffee, and Gareth chewed at his bottom lip. “John - I’ve spoken to him. To Kyle.” 

“Okay?”

“He’s told me his side of things,” he said carefully. John’s back stiffened. “I think you should hear him out.” 

John nodded his head once and said nothing. His hand was clenched tight around his coffee mug, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Gareth to mind his own business - really, who did he think he was, discussing John’s private business with people like it had anything to do with him? Being old didn’t make him the boss. Still, John said nothing, because it wouldn’t achieve anything. It wouldn’t help him in the end. 

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked, having the grace to look nervous. “Excuse me if I’ve spoken out of turn.” 

John pasted a smile onto his face. “I’m great. Hungry, actually. Think I’m gonna get some toast.” He turned and walked away, ignoring the hot tears of frustration that prickled at the back of his eyeballs. John picked a table at the other end of the terrace and waited for someone to take his order, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. Moments later Ruben and Trent joined him, followed by Pickford and Hendo and Adam. No one bothered John too much, probably sensing his mood, and he was appreciative of them for the thousandth time that trip. 

The wait staff brought them water, orange juice, tea and coffee. John’s toast came out with a selection of different jams and spreads and he settled on a packet of Nutella, wanting something comforting. He was spreading it onto his toast, making sure not to miss any corners, when Kyle walked onto the balcony. 

He looked as bad as John did. His eyes were so puffy he looked like he’d been fighting. His skin was lifeless, dull, his mouth pressed into a tight line. John looked down at his breakfast furiously, aware from the corner of his eye that Kyle had gone and sat down next to Gareth, Harry and some other wedding guests. John found his appetite had disappeared. He ate a couple of bites and then looked over at Kyle tentatively. He was in conversation with Harry Kane, their heads close together. John downed his glass of water and stood up. 

“Gonna go and get myself ready for the ceremony,” he announced to the guys. “See you all down there.” 

— 

After a shower and a sobering FaceTime with his mother, John was standing before his mirror straightening his tie and staring at himself in the mirror. He’d told his mum everything. She had sighed down the camera, shaking her head at him and frowning. 

“John,” she’d said gently, sympathetically. “Maybe you should hear him out. If Gareth thinks you should... I do trust him, mind. He’s sensible, that Gareth.” 

John wanted her to tell him to ignore Kyle, to never speak to him again, to completely cut him out. He wanted her to justify the easy route for him, to okay his cowardice. But she hadn’t done that, and John had cried, and now here he was; two hours before the wedding ceremony of two of his closest friends, patching himself up to go and have it out with his ex boyfriend. 

He was wearing a white shirt and black dress trousers, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. He’d picked out a sky blue tie and was pleased with how it set off his eyes. He looked at himself once, twice, three times, and took a deep breath. Then he was leaving, phone in his pocket, heart hammering, and heading to Kyle’s floor. 

— 

John stopped outside Kyle’s door and stood there with his fist raised, ready to knock, for what felt like a lifetime. He was debating with himself furiously, going back and forth between finally having this discussion and walking down to the beach, getting a beer, taking his seat with the other guests. The decision was made for him when Kyle opened the door, his face breaking out in surprise at the sight of John standing there. 

“Uh - hello?” 

John stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried not to go bright red. 

“Kyle. Can we - can we chat?” 

Kyle looked at his wrist watch and then back at John. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Do you want to come in?” 

“Please.” 

Kyle opened the door wide and stepped back to allow John entry. John looked around the room as he walked in - it was identical to his own but so clearly Kyle’s that it made his heart ache; the way everything was organised neatly; the smell of his aftershave lingering in the air; the selection of hair products lined up on the dresser. John perched on the end of the bed and wrung his hands together. Kyle stood in front of him with his hands hanging down by his side, his expression open and a bit fearful. John raised his eyebrows at him and shrugged, and Kyle began speaking. 

“Okay. Here we go... John, I was going to ask you to marry me. That Christmas, I was going to - I asked your mum and dad. For permission. I got you a ring. One of those stupid Cartier rings. I’d felt like you were distant for a while, not yourself, but I thought it was maybe just work or something stressing you. And then - do you remember, we were lying in bed one night. We’d just had sex and I said - I asked you if you ever wanted to get married. And you - “ Kyle’s voice cracked a bit, and John brought his own hand to his mouth. “You said you’d never marry someone off a reality show. You fucking broke my heart. You said it then you laughed and that was that. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed - “ 

“It was a joke, I was joking - “ 

“It didn’t feel like a joke, John! Not when I was planning to fucking propose days later. Didn’t feel funny, didn’t make me laugh - and you’d been so fucking weird, so strange... my fucking head was all over man. It was everywhere! What was I supposed to do? How could we go forward when you weren’t willing to go any further? I went to that fucking night out and I was drunk and confused and upset and I fucking kissed someone, alright. Stupid kiss, there wasn’t even - it wasn’t even tongues, it was a fucking peck. Couple pecks. But I knew, I knew I’d fucked it - and I told you because I wanted you to hear it off me and you shut down. You shut me down. You left me. You didn’t even let me explain.” Kyle was crying fully, tear after tear streaming down his cheeks. 

John opened and closed his mouth, speechless. He wasn’t aware he was crying himself until he felt a splash on his hand. His brain had frozen up and he couldn’t process his own thoughts, hearing only blaring white noise in his ears. Kyle was looking at him sadly, his arms wrapped around himself. 

“You - you kept getting on at me for leaving dishes in the sink,” John said quietly. “You were always annoyed at me. For not folding the laundry and that - “ 

“Oh my god, what? So, you didn’t want to marry me because you thought I was a... a fucking nag?” 

“I didn’t think you were serious when you asked that! We’d been together six months, I didn’t want - I never want to be too keen, fuck - “ 

Kyle gaped at John, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “You don’t want to be - you don’t want to be keen?! John?!” 

John put his head in his hands and wailed, a pained noise that left the room in a stunning silence. Neither of them moved or spoke for a moment or two, and then John whispered “I thought if I got over you before you got over me it’d hurt less when you left me. I didn’t see why you’d want to stay with me when everything I did annoyed you so much. I thought it was a matter of time.” 

The quiet that stretched around the room after his words caused John to look up from his hands, unsure if Kyle was still in front of him. He was, of course; stood there with his arms wrapped around himself and a look of heartbroken disbelief on his face. John blinked through tears and stared at Kyle, willing him to say something, anything. 

“Leaving damp towels on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink is fucking annoying John, it’s absolutely infuriating. But it didn’t make me love you any less? It doesn’t - I loved you. I loved you.” 

“I’ve fucked it,” John blubbered, panic swelling in his lungs. “I’ve fucking ruined everything. I’ve been so stupid, Kyle, fuck, so - “ 

A knock at the door made them both freeze. Kyle sprang forward, dashing into the bathroom and grabbing a towel for John to wipe at his face with. The knocking at the door continued and Kyle called out “Just a min!”, voice thick with tears. He dabbed at his eyes and threw a glance to John, ensuring he at least had the snot cleaned off his lip, before going to the door and pulling it open. 

Pickford and Trippier were standing there in their own suits, smiling. Their faces dropped when they saw Kyle, changing to awkwardness as they spotted John over his shoulder getting up from the couch looking blotchy and swollen. 

“Alright?” John said, pasting on a smile and approaching the door. “Time to go down is it?” 

“Everything okay?” Trippier asked cautiously, glancing between them. 

Kyle nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t fuss, eh? Let me just grab my phone and me key and that, and I’ll meet you at the lifts?” 

Trippier, Pickford and John all looked like they didn’t want to leave Kyle but they agreed anyway, turning and retreating down the corridor in tense silence. Jordan looked at John and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. 

“Y’okay?” He asked softly, voice dropped low. 

John nodded, took a deep breath. “Yeah. No, but yeah. Things weren’t okay. But I think maybe they might be.” 

Jordan looked at him like he hadn’t a clue what John was talking about and then Kyle was jogging down the hallway towards them, and it was time to enjoy the ceremony. 

— 

On a private stretch of beach a few minutes from the hotel, the scene of Eric and Dele’s union had been meticulously arranged, and it was beautiful. 

The guests were led down to their seats by a walkway of flowers, fragrant and colourful and beautiful. A raised plateau of decking had been laid on the sand, and the path opened up onto the large seating area that sat just behind a huge flowered arch, green and drooping and utterly stunning. It framed a stretch of blue ocean and would serve as the perfect back drop for the men to say their vows. The guests filled in all at once, everyone greeting each other with hugs and kisses on cheeks and excited murmurings. Eric’s mum was crying big fat tears and nothing had even happened yet, sat in the front row beside his sister and his dad and other family members. 

John took a seat beside Pickford, Marcus and Jesse, craning around to see that Kyle was in the opposite section of seating between Ruben and Hendo. He looked down at his knees and tried not to think too hard about the conversation they’d just had in Kyle’s room, about what this meant going forward. Jesse knocked his knee against John’s and asked if he was okay and John nodded, smiled. He didn’t get a chance to explain because the opening notes of a soft piano song began, and the officiant at the altar signalled for everyone to rise. 

Just as the song broke into a new key, through the walkway of flowers appeared Eric, smiling ecstatically and holding onto a dog leash. The crowd murmured in affection as Eric and Clay made their way down the aisle, Eric dressed in a black suit and bow tie, his beard trimmed nicely, crows feet visible at each of his eyes; Clay wearing a little bow tie of his own. He reached the end of the aisle and handed the dog’s lead to his dad, scratching between Clay’s ears before turning to face the crowd from under the arch. 

John watched Eric, eyes gazing over his features, his body language, his clothes. He watched him in awe, disbelieving that Eric had found someone on that stupid reality show and was now marrying him. It’d worked for Eric, same way it could’ve worked for John. John stared at Eric under the arch and saw it the moment his face changed - the way his eyes opened up, his spine straightened, his lips parted ever so slightly. John pulled his eyes away from Eric’s face and followed his gaze to where Dele was emerging from the flowered walkway. 

Like Eric, Dele had Cisco on a leash. He was wearing a white shirt and a black waistcoat and dress trousers, his own sleeves rolled up around his forearms. He was glowing, radiating happiness and health and love. John had to bite his lip so he wouldn’t burst into tears just at the sight of him, combined with the sea of beaming faces surrounding him and the music playing out across the beach. Dele passed Cisco to his brother Harry and joined Eric under the arch, their eyes firmly locked on one another. They were so clearly in love, so unimaginably wrapped up in each other. It was beautiful to see. 

The officiary cleared her throat and began her introductions. She gave a speech about love, about unions and family and the importance of marriage as an institution in today’s ever changing society. She cracked a joke about Love Island, which had everyone chuckling, and then she commented on how wonderful it was that two people who’d been looking for love on a TV show had clearly been so surrounded by love all along, in their family and friends and now with each other. 

“So, without further ado - it’s time for the vows. Eric?” 

Eric put a slightly shaking hand into his suit and produced a piece of paper, unfolding it and smoothing it out against his thigh. He grinned at Dele and then began. 

“We weren’t together initially, Del, on the show, but I knew from the moment I met you it was you I wanted to be with. When I was around you I felt like every bit of focus in the universe had been pinpointed to this one place, to this one person. I’d never been around anyone so exciting in my life, I never will be. You’re like a whirlwind of energy and ideas and life and I didn’t know what it was to feel my heartbeat in my fingertips until I met you. I want you with me for life, Dele. I want you and me to be our own little team forever, I can’t imagine it with anyone else. I want you until we’re old and we can’t get up the stairs and we’ve become nothing more than a strain on the NHS. Everything was out of focus until you. I’d been seeing everything blurry until you came into my life like a pair of glasses designed just for me. You make it good for me, everything. I used to think eighty years was a long time to have to exist on Earth, paying bills and working 9-5 and worrying about whether what I’m eating is healthy. And then there was you, and eighty years didn’t feel like long enough anymore. There’s no amount of time that would satisfy me when it comes to you. Life’s not about those other things, the mundane things. It’s not about what car I drive and how many promotions I can get at work and how many places I travel. Don’t get me wrong, those things are good, they’re nice extras. But it’s about making you laugh, and making you feel loved, and knowing that through all these... millennia, and all these possible combinations of coincidence and atoms and points in time, I met you and you met me and you were enough for me. God, you’re more than enough for me. I vow to love you every single day, from now until I’m rotting in the ground. I vow to never let your lips go a day without being kissed. I vow to make you a cup of tea every morning, and then a slice of toast when you’ve woken up a bit better. I vow to pair all of your socks for you and take you to every midnight screening of every new Marvel movie. I vow to be your best friend and your backup and your person, your family, until I die. I vow to be the best husband I can be, because you deserve nothing less. I love you,” he finished, voice breaking on the last syllable. 

Sniffling could be heard throughout the crowd, John’s own eyes threatening to leak. He pinched his tear ducts and looked around quickly at Kyle, who was staring at him with shining eyes of his own. They held eye contact for a beat, overwhelmed by the emotions in Eric’s words, and then it was Dele’s turn. 

“I’m going to try not to cry,” he laughed, his voice shaky. “Okay. Here we go. Eric Dier, god. You bring a quiet to my life that I never knew I needed. I used to drive my family crazy, drive everyone crazy, all the time - always in trouble, always winding people up. When I’m with you all the white noise and the urges to be bad and the general nonsense, it all just stops. It goes quiet in my head. Sometimes I thought I’d go crazy if I couldn’t make it all shut up. I’d go crazy without you. I knew I’d marry you from about five minutes into knowing you, honestly. Pretty sure I’ve not thought about anything other than you since you fell down the stairs in the Villa last summer.” The guests laughed, and Eric rolled his eyes. “I vow not to hate you when we’re 80 and you insist on buying a caravan near the sea with all our savings. I vow to love you even when you get so old you start voting Tory - don’t make that face, it happens to every white person - I vow to never ever let a day in your life be boring. I vow to stop you from turning our house into a dog sanctuary, just because you love puppies so much. I vow not to let food get crusty in the pans and not to get eggshells in your omelettes. I vow not to be annoyed when you wake me up early, because the earlier we wake up, the more time I get to spend with you. I vow not to lose the page in your book or watch a series without you. I vow to love you for the rest of my life, and even after that.” 

Dele wiped a tear from his face and the officiary motioned for the rings. Dele’s brother stepped up and passed them each a ring, which they slipped onto one another’s fingers, repeating the official words of marriage - I take you to be my lawful wedded husband. And just like that, they were married. 

They kissed and everyone stood up and applauded. John wipes a tear from his eye and turned around again, looking at Kyle. He smiled softly, thinking about what Kyle had told him that morning - that he was going to propose to John. This could’ve been them. The look on Kyle’s face told John he was thinking the same thing. John dragged his eyes away reluctantly and focussed back on the happy couple. 

— 

Back at the hotel a huge marquee had been set up, decorated inside with flowers, balloons, little candles and fairy lights, and an enormous dance floor. Circular tables were scattered around the room in front of a long rectangular one designed for the grooms and their families. Everyone filtered in from the ceremony with wet eyes and big smiles, love in the air. 

John walked into the marquee with Jordan and Trippier, consulting the seating plan for his table. He was sat beside Southgate and Ruben and he chewed at his lip, peering at the plan for Kyle’s name. 

“Rubes?” John called, spotting Ruben walking in with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Can you do me a big favour?” 

— 

Ruben didn’t need much persuasion due to the fact that Trent was sat at Kyle’s table. When Kyle sat down next to John, Gareth stared at them and opened his mouth to comment but John shut him up with a look. The tent filled quickly, efficiently. Dele and Eric walked in hand in hand, unable to stop smiling smugly. 

“How long do you reckon it’ll take them to disappear?” Kyle leaned in and whispered in John’s ear, his thigh pressing along John’s warmly, making him tingle. 

John looked at Kyle and swallowed. “How long do you reckon it’ll take us to disappear?” He asked, hoping he sounded confident. 

Kyle dragged his eyes away and picked up his drink but pushed his thigh closer, heat radiating between them. John wondered what he’d do if he came in his pants then and there, and turned to Gareth in the hope it would cool him down a bit. 

— 

The marquee was a single person’s nightmare. Everywhere were happy couples, sexual tension thick in the air. Dele and Eric were being ridiculous, blatantly feeding each other and kissing freely and staring at each other like there was no one else around for miles. 

John and Kyle maintained contact all the way through the starter and the main, never saying much but communicating all they needed through the press of their legs. Every time their glasses emptied someone came around to refill, and the more he drank the more confident John became, pushing himself closer and closer to Kyle. The air between them was sparkling, and John wanted to allow himself to get drunk on it for once. He reached out a thumb at one point and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of Kyle’s mouth, putting the thumb into his own mouth and sucking the sauce off it suggestively - and that was it, that was as much as Kyle could stand. 

“Follow me in five,” he mouthed at John, standing up and putting his napkin on his plate. “Going bathroom,” he announced, turning and walking in the opposite direction. 

“You spoke, then?” 

John turned around and looked at Gareth. “Think Del and Eric’ll be annoyed if we miss the first dance?” 

Gareth and John looked over at Eric and Dele, who had their foreheads pressed together speaking quietly to one another, and laughed. 

“I don’t think they’ll miss you. You sure about this?” 

John sighed and nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got a lot to get through, lots to sort out. But we need to do this first, or we’ll never be thinking straight.” 

Gareth nodded and patted John on the thigh. “Go get him, lad.” 

— 

They barely made it to John’s hotel room. 

They couldn’t stop kissing each other, overwhelmed with the fact that they hadn’t been able to do this for so long, even though they’d both wanted to so badly. Kyle had stuck his ridiculous thigh between John’s legs in the elevator and John couldn’t stop grinding down on it, convinced that it was all going to happen in the lift, in plain view of everybody, just the two of them going at it as guests got in and out all night. 

Kyle was more sensible, as always. He pulled John down the corridor of his floor and watched as John fumbled for the key, pushing the door open and pulling Kyle against the wall, repeating his name over and over like he couldn’t believe he was getting to use it again. 

They made out on the couch, shedding shirts and ties, and then they made out on the floor, losing shoes and trousers. John made Kyle carry him to bed and he lay there in the middle of the big marshmallow, blinking up at Kyle blissfully, knowing exactly how he looked. Kyle knelt over him and sighed happily, shaking his head slowly as if to say: look at you. 

John sat up and crawled forward, pressing kisses to the tattoo on Kyle’s thigh, wrapping his hand around the strong muscle of it and squeezing tight. John mouthed his way up, up, up, putting his finger in the waistband of Kyle’s boxers and tugging. Kyle caught his wrist and stilled him, and John looked up confusedly. 

“John,” Kyle said, sitting down on his heels so they were face to face. “Wait. Wait,” he breathed, putting his hand on John’s jaw. “I need you to know something. I need you to understand this, alright? Are you listening to me?” John nodded, his eyes darting between Kyle’s. “You can’t do that again, alright? The closing up. This won’t work, not if it’s like that. You can’t be scared, John, fuck. You can’t be scared of love because it might hurt. You’re going to waste your life if you do that. Of course it’ll hurt, but it also feels wonderful. You know that, don’t you? You can’t... not get into a car because you might end up hurt. Think of all the things you’d miss John, all the places you wouldn’t go. None of this matters in the end. None of it. None of it except for how much we loved. I love you, and I’m not scared of it. Alright? Do you understand?” 

John was crying and so was Kyle, and he answered him with his mouth, pressing it firmly to Kyle’s and nodding, nodding yes, I get it. I get it now. I understand. 

“I love you,” John gasped, and they fell back against the sheets together. 

— 

Eric and Dele’s first dance was to You’re Still The One by Shania Twain, because Eric is cheesy and Dele’s choice of So Good by Big Sean was firmly rejected by everyone involved in the wedding. 

They lasted about fifteen minutes after that before they disappeared. The reception was in full swing anyway, everyone sufficiently drunk and the music thumping (there were rumours Harry Kane had slipped the DJ a playlist, Dele would have to interrogate him over that later) and they darted out hand in hand, not even stopping to say goodbye to anyone.

They didn’t touch each other the whole walk back to the room. Dele felt like he was about to lose his virginity for the first time, nervous suddenly under Eric’s gaze. They stared at each other in the lift, silent conversation passing between them. 

“We’re married,” Eric said, smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Dele breathed, sure his eyes were embarrassingly wide. “We are.” 

“Quite cool.” 

Dele shrugged a shoulder. “Not a bad situation to be in. All things considered.” 

Eric carried Dele over the threshold bridal style, both of them laughing breathlessly. The hotel staff had laid rose petals all over the bed. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice box on the bedside, with two flutes beside it. Eric popped the bottle and poured them each a glass, which they drank whilst staring at each other quietly - and then, when it was a bit too much, they crossed the room and kissed the taste of the stars out of each other’s mouths. 

Later that night Eric poured the champagne over Dele’s naked hips and licked the same taste out from between his cheeks; out of his belly button; from the dip of his collarbones. The sex was different - it was better somehow. They broke the bed, completely destroying the slats designed to hold up the mattress, and then they broke the shower curtain, learning too late that it wasn’t strong enough to hold Dele’s weight. They only stopped getting each other off when Eric’s dick was producing a paltry amount of semen, over sensitive and red and sad looking. 

They fell asleep under the bed sheets on the floor, their hands linked up and their bodies utterly exhausted and a smile on both of their faces. It was the first day of the rest of their lives, and they’d never, ever, ever been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Belle-laid.tumblr.com


End file.
